


transgender dysphoria blues

by ficfucker



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Comfort, Established Relationship, Frottage, Gay, Gender Dysphoria, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Trans Male Character, trans!Ryan, trans!shane, ya boy back at it again with the trans character content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 20:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13302426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: shane and ryan find themselves in new hampshire to film an episodeand get a bit sidetracked in the process





	transgender dysphoria blues

**Author's Note:**

> request for trans!shane and trans!ryan has been fulfilled
> 
> title is based off against me! song/album

The boys hadn’t frequented the East Coast much in their lives, but once Ryan heard about the Bear Brook murders, an unsolved quadruple homicide, they were packed up and headed across the country. Shane seemed excited to have a case where they could physically visit the site, the crime scene itself, and this pleased Ryan; he liked to keep things interesting for the both of them. 

Ryan, despite looking forward to spending a week in New Hampshire, was as afraid as he always was.

Going to the park where 4 girls were found in industrial metal drums, completely decomposed beyond human recognition? Didn’t sound like the best time considering the murderer had never been caught, giving him a mild taste of what he experience at Keddie Cabin. 

Shane must’ve noticed because he gave Ryan’s hand a little squeeze at the airport, quick, dropping his arm back to his side just as fast; Ryan received the message loud and clear and his heart warmed from the gesture. 

  
  


“I gotta say, New England? It’s the Canada of America!” Shane mused, settling onto the bed. “I mean, look at this.” He pointed a long index finger in the direction of a wooden moose head hanging over the only window in the room. “How many moose decorations have we seen just  _ today _ ?”

Ryan was pulling off his jeans on the other side of the bed. “What? Are you complaining? The scenery here is-is fuckin’- it’s beautiful up here.” 

“I’m not saying it’s  _ not _ beautiful. New Hampshire just… it lives up to the stereotypes given to it.” 

Ryan got into the bed next to Shane with his laptop under his arm, unholstering it, placed on his thighs, and opened the lid. “I think, you’re jealous you didn’t get any maple candy and I won’t share mine.”

There was a moment of quiet.

Then, Shane: “Bummer about the opioid crisis, though, huh?”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , dude…” 

“I-I’m just saying… It’s got its downsides. Like, uh, New Hampshire doesn’t have a trans safety bill for-for workplace discrimination,” Shane said. He had a wikipedia page open on his phone and offered up the screen to Ryan who glanced at it briefly, nodded, and went back to his laptop. 

The quiet settled back in again. 

Ryan was open to talking about ghosts, ghouls, gruesome murders, exactly what they had come to New Hampshire for in the first place, but the topic Shane had offered was not a favorite of his. 

Shane and Ryan had never been closeted to each other with their identities, both well into their transitions when they met and immediately feeling comfortable enough to disclose their genders. Ryan, having spent more time in the closet and more time struggling to pass before he had the opportunity to start testosterone than Shane, wasn’t always willing to discuss trans-related things. 

He wasn’t yet at peace with himself. Hell, he was still stuck in a binder during shoots. Top surgery was a concept too abstract for him; afraid he’d regret it, hate the results, or worst of all, be stuck with the terminal feeling of being even more of a “artificial” man. A frankenstein-esque thing. 

Forever stuck between two different yet painfully similar hoops of suffering. 

Shane went with the flow, even on his most dysphoric days. 

A small, somewhat nervous sound escaped from Shane and he mumbled, “Sorry” like he was unsure how to apologize. 

Ryan, rather than addressing the issue, closed his laptop screen, stood, and grabbed the jeans he had just peeled off. “Let’s-let’s uh, go get a drink,” he suggested. 

Shane greeted this with a grin and didn’t hesitate to get to his feet. 

 

An hour or so later, Ryan was the perfect amount of buzzed, giggly at whatever joke Shane had just cracked, slumped in the passenger seat while Shane drove. 

They hadn’t spent long at the bar, slamming a few drinks before retreating to the safety of the car. In fact, they had been driving for a while, talking about what they were going to film tomorrow, how they felt about where they were, general conversation with some wheezing thrown in. 

“H-Hey, where we headed?” Ryan asked. 

They were on some back road with no other cars, lion-mouthed trees hooked above them, houses spread acres apart on farm-like properties. 

“Mm… Just gettin’ lost a little,” Shane replied. 

Ryan accepted this and let his head rest against the cool of the window, looking out on the night. 

Shane’s hand drifted to Ryan’s thigh and began rubbing little circles on the inner curve of his jeans, to which Ryan replied, in an incredibly hushed voice, “Feels good.” His eyelids were heavy and now there was the warm sensation of arousal fluttering in his stomach.  

Shane signaled left and like he knew the area as if it were his hometown, pulled into a dirt lot of what appeared to be an apple orchard. 

Ryan sat up erect as Shane put the car in park. He had no clue where they were, but Shane seemed confident in their location. 

With a small tug, some light gestures, Shane coaxed Ryan into the backseat, memory like a phantom limb on how exactly they found themselves tangled on top of vinyl, hands hot and mouths lazily working against each other. 

When Shane’s fingers curled to the hem of Ryan’s gray shirt, he sat up on his elbows and went to help, noticing how Shane shrunk back slightly. Too cautious, too afraid of sparking dysphoria over his chest. He appreciated this, of course, to have a lover so careful with him, yet felt a throb of guilt, as if he were some weapon that might go off if mishandled. 

Ryan peeled off his shirt then sat all the way up to struggle out of his binder, Shane trying to keep from laughing when it got stuck halfway on his shoulders. 

As soon as Ryan had all the layers of his upper half unspooled on the floor of the car, Shane’s mouth opened and ducked down to meet Ryan’s breast. 

He gasped hard and his hand cradled the back of Shane’s head, his fingers threaded desperately through his hair. “F-Fuck,” he broke out, his nerves frayed with arousal and a sense of anxiety he was trying to push down.

In the early days of their relationship, Ryan suffered through panic attacks during intimate moments, quaking simply from innocent touch, on his hips, his chest; having to stop mid session to catch his breath and recuperate. Shane held him and rubbed his back during these moments, soothe him until he stopped hyperventilating in his arms. 

For whatever reason, tonight felt like one of those nights, unhinged in his body.  

Shane paused long enough to murmur, “S’okay, baby,” before clasping his lips around Ryan’s nipple again, his teeth grazing the little bud. 

“I-I’m… fuck, s-sorry,” Ryan sputtered. He tried to steady his hands, running them over the back of Shane’s head over and over, trying hardest to focus on the electric feeling Shane’s tongue was mapping out on his skin. 

Shane pulled away and awkwardly pressed a palm to Ryan’s cheek, who leaned into the touch. “Wanna stop?” he asked, his voice much softer than usual. 

Ryan wanted to ball his fists. He huffed in a breath, exhaled hard. “N-No, let’s keep going…” 

In response to this, Shane pulled off his black and white striped shirt, then started working on Ryan’s fly, gently forcing him onto his back and shucking away Ryan’s jeans along with his boxers. Shane mumbled something like, “Prettiest boy in all of New England” as he started on to match Ryan’s nudity. 

With Shane draped over him, Ryan let his muscles relax a bit and lifted his hips teasingly to meet Shane’s groin so their t-cocks touched for less than a second, easing back down as Shane, caught off guard, gasped. 

“Suddenly brave, huh, Bergara?” Shane asked, biting at Ryan’s neck and rolling his hips, grinding down with the ideal amount of pressure. 

His heart was in his throat, his anxiety melting to lust. “M-Maybe…,” he smiled. He was trying his hardest to keep his legs from shaking more than they already, trying his hardest to keep time with Shane’s thrusts. 

Shane’s head was drooped to Ryan’s chest, placed perfectly between his breasts on the smooth plain of flat skin there, as if in prayer. “Gotta come to terms with your body, Ryan,” he whispered. 

By his voice, Ryan thought he was crying at first. 

“Appreciate the…. the masculinity you’ve built up,” Shane continued, solemn in his words despite never stopping the movement of his hips. “It’s all a concept, anyway.” 

Ryan wanted to respond with something that matched the tenderness of the moment, but his t-cock was throbbing between his legs, milking every thrust Shane allowed, and instead, muttered, “Alright, Robert Frost, just fuck me already.” 

Shane broke into a wild laugh and leaned his head back, his eyes crinkled shut until he dissolved into giggles. “Whatever you say, captain,” he chucked.

The lolling of his hips upped in pace, and Ryan bit his bottom lip, a tiny hiss of pleasure escaping what small part of his lips he allowed open, his nails digging crescent moons into the soft skin of Shane’s shoulder blades. It was aggressive and animalistic now, completely without the tenderness Shane had been dribbling seconds before. 

Shane muttered “fuck” every once and a while, Ryan moaning softly beneath him as his mind neared the blank white pleasure of orgasm; Shane’s hand placed over Ryan’s left breast faultlessly, flexing his fingers in a mechanic manner. 

“Sh-Shane, please,” Ryan whimpered. His hair was falling into his face in thin wisps of black like charcoal streaks and Shane’s mouth collided with his, pushing his tongue past Ryan’s teeth, shutting him up immediately. 

Shane swiveled his hips in a more circular motion and that did it for Ryan, tightening himself up as he moaned into Shane’s mouth, head falling back onto the seats, his neck exposed and painted with hickies that were visible in the moonlight, little beads of sweat near his temples. 

Shane followed only seconds after, his thrusts breaking apart until he was lying snugly on Ryan’s chest, their thighs both slick with cum, a nice warmth there, tired and heavy from the lightning that had just zigzagged through them. 

“Good boy,” Shane mumbled. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey yall i hope u enjoyed !
> 
> im dealing with some major issues involving my depression and the medication i take so i tried slamming out some work to post but there may be some gaps in updating i hope u guys understand
> 
> also i didn't proofread any of this and feedback is desired !!
> 
> thank u for reading
> 
> also ive lived in new hampshire for 11 years and wanted to play on some stereotypes and all that :-)


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